


Hello

by allonsysilvertongue



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Hayffie, adele gave me too much feels, song inspired fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsysilvertongue/pseuds/allonsysilvertongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Effie regrets pushing Haymitch away</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't listen to Hello by Adele, you totally should. It gives me post-mockingjay hayffie feels. I also happened to be listening to Writing's on The Wall on repeat with Hello which only added to the angsty feels. The feels need to go somewhere which is to this fic.

 

_Hello, it's me  
_ _I was wondering if after all these years,  
_ _You'd like to meet, to go over everything  
_ _They say that time's supposed to heal you but I ain't done much healing_

Effie pressed the receiver to her ear. A quiet, desperate whisper escaped her lips – "I can't do it" - and she imagined Haymitch on the other end of the line.

She imagined his voice – low and gruff – telling her to pull herself together. Effie imagined it all in her mind; him asking her to come home; him telling her that it would be okay; him assuring her that they would face it all  _together_  and that she didn't have to do it alone anymore.

That was all she could do; conjure up illusions of the things she so desperately needed to happen. Often, she would pick up the phone and tell him the things she truly wanted to say to him. The silence in her house was begging for her to fill it. Not once had she ever dialled his number though – a number she knew by heart – because she was so mortally afraid of what he would say to her except once her fingers curled around the receiver, her lips would move on its own accord and she would tell him the things she kept to herself. She would tell him all the things she should have told her therapist but didn't. She poured it on the phone; to someone she never dared to call.

It was pathetic but months had passed that she no longer knew if he would like to talk to her or meet her anymore at all.

* * *

_Hello, can you hear me?  
_ _I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be  
_ _When we were younger and free  
_ _I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet.  
_ _There's such a difference between us, and a million miles_

More often than not, her imagination led to her dreaming of him.

She dreamt of the first time they met; he had been rude to her. She dreamt of the first time they fell in bed together; his hands, course and insistent roaming across her body, his teeth clashing against hers, his ragged breath against her skin. It had been messy and rough with a desperate, twisted need to seek comfort. She dreamt of that calloused hand in hers. It reminded her of him squeezing her hand lightly - almost like an apology now that she thought back - just before he was gone and she was dragged to prison. She dreamt of him before her world fell apart.

From time to time, her mind wandered to thoughts of him. She wondered if he was still drinking too much and if he still left heaps of dirty clothes all over his room. There were a million miles separating them but if she closed her eyes and picture him in her mind then it wouldn't feel too much like there was a huge void between them.

* * *

_Hello from the other side  
_ _I must have called a thousand times to tell you  
_ _I'm sorry for everything that I've done  
_ _But when I call you never seem to be home_

That one time she managed to gather her nerves and actually dial the number to his house gave her the courage to call him again, and again, and again but his phone kept ringing endlessly.

At least, she thought, he hadn't destroyed it and pulled it off the wall.

She kept in touch with Katniss and Peeta, of course, but each time they brought up Haymitch's name, Effie would suck in a breath and the conversation became stilted and awkward. So they learnt not to talk about Haymitch during their conversation, thinking that perhaps, she didn't want to hear it, that she was still furious.

Except, that was all she ever wanted to know. It was just that each time she heard his name, she choked. There were too many emotions most of them having to do with guilt, and it was drowning her. Sometimes she thought about how pitiful she was, straining her ears to try and pick up his voice in the background whenever she called Twelve. A part of her was hoping that he would be there at Katniss' and Peeta's house but she never did hear him.

* * *

_Hello from the outside  
_ _At least I can say that I've tried to tell you  
_ _I'm sorry for breaking your heart  
_ _But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore_

When she visited Annie and Finn at Four with Johanna Mason, she did not expect to run into Haymitch.

"Go," Johanna nudged her none too gently. "You're gonna talk my fucking ear off if you didn't. You better fucking go, Trinket or I swear I'll lock you both up in a closet until this shit's over."

They stood facing each other neither of them saying anything. He leaned against the fence; dark grey eyes boring into hers and his hands buried deep inside his pockets. Effie crossed her arms in front of her chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable. For a long while, the only sound that could be heard was the waves crashing against the shore and the seagulls flying overhead.

Haymitch would not say anything or at least, he would not be the one to make the first move and break the ice. He had done it once. He had lowered down his walls, stood vigil by her bedside, extended his home to her but  _she_  had thrown it in his face. She had thrown his slain family back at him. She had been angry, naturally, and had accused him of only being gentle and accommodating out of his guilt for having left her behind. The words that spewed out of her were angry and hurtful, and she saw the way his eyes dimmed slightly before it flashed with anger but she didn't care. Not then.

Word was that Haymitch had spiralled out of control after that, even more so when Peeta returned to Twelve and both him and Katniss began to build their life together. He was left with no purpose and nothing to occupy his time or distract him so he drank more heavily than before. Johanna had been the one to tell her that, surprisingly. They both kept in touch on the phone and it hurt Effie deeply that her calls went unanswered each time but Johanna's didn't. Haymitch could probably tell it was her and avoided answering because she would call at night which was morning for him, and once Effie stick to a routine, she hardly broke it.

"Love is fucking weird," Johanna had scoffed. "The Games and the war didn't kill him but having feelings for you probably will."

Her breath had hitched then. "He doesn't love me" she had been quick to deny but that was when she realised exactly what she had done to him.

Looking at him now, Effie wasn't sure about all the things Johanna had told her. He didn't look like someone at the bottom of a pit. Still, "I'm sorry," Effie uttered, lifting her eyes to his.

Haymitch shrugged and turned away. He fixed his gaze in the distance, watching the sun set over the sea. It would have been romantic, she supposed, if things weren't so complicated between them.

"Doesn't matter," he murmured. "Did you find what you're looking for in the Capitol? You doing okay?"

He didn't have to ask her that but he still did, and a part of her soared with joy. Perhaps, perhaps just a tiny little bit of him still cared for her. But Effie didn't answer him. What could she say to him? How could she spill the truth to him and burdened him with her problems when she had been the one to run away?

He misconstrued her silence as something else. They were good at that; misunderstanding each other.

"Guess you're doing okay, then," he glanced briefly in her direction. "Kids told me you got a job with Plutarch or something. Don't worry, sweetheart, you don't have to tell me 'bout your life in the City – the kids tell me enough as it is – and I don't think I want to hear more. I think I've been doing a great fucking job of not thinking 'bout you and then drinking myself to oblivion," he turned, propping his elbow on the fence.

She thought maybe he meant to hurt her. Her therapist had said something about a defense mechanism and she wondered if this was his.

"Haymitch," she started, reaching out for him only to pull her hand back hastily, letting it fall to her side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know I've hurt you. Plutarch told me why you didn't take me along. I understand, Haymitch. I'm sorry about how I behave. I'm sorry for… I didn't mean to break your heart. I didn't know how it would –"

"You didn't break my heart. Snow did it just fine - it was broken long before you and I happened. Don't flatter yourself," he scoffed. "You know what, sweetheart? I understood why you can't come to Twelve and why you had to stay. Supposed it's good that we understand each other now, yeah? Well, we can all do what we need to do now …. What was it the kids said? Move on and survive..."

She studied him and took it all in. The way he stood, the way he spoke… He seemed in control of himself. She could still hear the anger in his voice when he talked to her but his demeanour was different somewhat. He seemed resolute and sturdy, and maybe he was finally learning to breathe and live in this new world, one without her in his life.

She, on the other hand, was suffocating without him.

This was where she should give it up all.

She did.

She watched him walk away from her. She let him go. She didn't want to be the one to ruin it again for him. She didn't want to say the wrong things and send him back into the dark pit he had finally managed to crawl out with Katniss' and Peeta's help.

* * *

_Hello, how are you?  
_ _It's so typical of me to talk about myself  
_ _I'm sorry I hope that you're well  
_ _Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?_

"How are you?" her voice rose and she smiled. Effie coiled the phone cord around a finger. "I've been counting down the days! Haven't you? I find it difficult to believe sometimes that they are  _finally_  getting married."

Still talking, she walked down the hallway with the receiver resting between her shoulder and her ear. Effie reached out for the wrapped packaging on the table and turned it in her hand.

"To tell you the truth, I am a bit nervous. I have never been to a toasting before so as you can guess by now, I am not very sure how things are usually done. I'm certain it is different from a Capitol wedding but I assume that guests would still gift the newly wed with a wedding present, yes? I mean, one cannot turn up empty handed. That is just bad manners," she laughed lightly. "Oh! I bought a dress just for this occasion. It is a simple dress really. I have no intention of upstaging Katniss. It is  _her_  day after all! What about you? Have you picked out – "

Effie stopped abruptly and inhaled sharply. As if burnt, she released the receiver in her hand. It swung and hit the wall.

She was going mad. She was absolutely certain of it. This was madness – there was no other explanation.

She talked about herself and about anything that came to mind really on the phone to someone whose number she would never ever dial again. All she could hear aside from her own voice was the dial tone.

This had to end. She was losing her grip on reality.

She was alone. She was lonely and she missed him so very dearly.

Calling him – if it could even be classified as calling – every other day to talk was a red flag that she was not coping and she was not healing. She felt better when she talked, a lot calmer but her therapist was not Haymitch, so she liked to imagine that she was talking to Haymitch on the phone.

Effie slid to the floor, her back against the wall. She covered her face with her hands and cried, her sobs wrecking her body.

She was going to die here in the Capitol, alone and miserable.

She had asked him once before their world crumbled if he would leave Twelve if he ever had the chance. He had told her no and she had asked him why. She didn't understand it – nothing ever happened in Twelve. It was a small, dirty town. Haymitch had said that Twelve was home.

She hadn't understood it then but she understood it now. She saw it clearly.

 _She_  needed to get out of the Capitol. Nothing would happen here and nothing was going to happen to her here if she stayed. This wasn't home. It had not been her home for a while.

Home would be where she made it to be and she couldn't make a home here.

* * *

_It's no secret that the both of us are running out of time._

From the day they met, they had spent too many years fighting. They spent too many after that regretting.

Haymitch was reaching fifty and she wasn't getting any younger.

Enough was enough. She needed to stop running; the only direction she should run was to him.

When Haymitch opened his door that one rainy afternoon, he had expected Katniss at his door with another one of her panic attacks about marrying Peeta.

He was not expecting her. He had learnt not to expect her.

The sight of her with dark circles under her eyes, clothes that did not match with her shoes, dripping wet from having to walk in the rain with three big luggages made his eyes widened imperceptibly in surprise. But the look of utter desperation and misery on her face told her that whatever had happened between them, they would work it out and he wouldn't be turning her away. He felt it thrumming within him, the need to take her in and protect her.

"Hello," Effie whispered.


End file.
